Black Roses, White Lilies
by CherrySouffle
Summary: Hao's journey into the unknown. A mysterious finding. A girl bound to Fate and her destiny. How will the lives of others be affected, and most importantly, will love reveal itself as victorious? Pairing: HaoxOC, with others to come in later chapters.
1. Shelter

Author's note: My first fanfic here. It's a multi-chapter one, and probably the longest fanfic I'm going to write. Pairings will be HaoxOC for now. I can't confirm yet how it will turn out eventually, but who knows? Read and review, thanks. I will be very grateful.

Disclaimer: I don't own Shaman King, only a couple of watches, figurines and the anime box set.

Well, here goes.

**Black roses, white lilies**

Chapter 1: Shelter

The evening sky was already preparing itself for night when Hao awoke. The clouds slowly turning a dark-bluish hue and when the wind blew them apart, they revealed the moon gently giving off a slight slivery shimmer. Stars sparkled in the background of this surreal scene, dancing amid the darkness. The night seemed almost magical in its own quiet calming way.

Hao gave a little yawn as his eyelids drew back, bringing his short nap to a close. He stood up, slowly, beholding the wonders that lay before him. _Ouch._ A sharp pain shot up his calves and arms, and his muscles screamed for mercy. He rubbed his aching muscles, attempting to abate the pain still present. It did not hurt that much after that, but it still stung and left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Ever present, just like the earth, sky and seas.

_Guess the injuries from the shaman fight have not healed completely yet._

He paused a while, envisaging all this, then began to walk again, a slow stride, and then breaking into a run to find shelter from the sudden shower. It was raining, as it always did during the rainy season. He counted himself lucky for dozing off and not waking to a blast in his face the force of a water hose turned to full power. The rain was that strong, on some days.

Hao was safe inside a small cave he found for himself a few metres away by the time the rain grew strong. He was not so lucky though; his poncho was saturated.

-------------------------------------------------Shaman King--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cave was exactly as he'd imagined-a deep dark one seemingly full of hidden secrets, making his senses tingle in excitement and mystery; it was also one that echoed whenever he faced the endless tunnel leading to the unknown within and said a few words. Even the tiniest voice would send the whole interior throbbing with sound waves which moved in ripples. "Hello," he would say to the jet-black abyss on his right and it would respond with a hollow, deep-sounding "hellloo". It was damn spooky, the way it answered, as it had something to hide. It was almost saying 'Don't come in here. You don't know what's inside. You don't want to know." Nevertheless, it was fun to repeat that, but it got boring after the fun experimenting with the echoes faded into the darkness, and together with it, the echoes.

Hao had a look around the cave. It was just a typical cave: dark, damp, rocky, with algae that slithered up its walls and little puddles of water that had gathered on the floor and made him slip thrice. His behind was getting a bit sore after all that falling. This could be his resting place for the night, although he shouldn't have used that word, as an afterthought. 'Resting place' was a phrase surrounded by ambiguity and he certainly did not want, him or anyone else, to take it in its figurative context.

It was still raining outside, and Hao took advantage of his surroundings to watch the world outside, not before he lighted a fire in the middle of the cave, with the aid of his Spirit of Fire. The tongues of flame burned bright, occasionally turning a blazing white. They flickered, casting dancing shadows upon the cave walls which looked like figures engaging in some ancient tribal dance, one that involved dancing around a fire. He could use a little bit of his imagination; he'd seen things like that in various places: history books, documentaries and even in his life. 500 years ago, that is.

The fire brought up fond memories of various events, but strong as it was, it still could not break up the unyielding darkness at the innermost part of the cave. The darkness just sort of retreated backward, recoiled, so that it became slightly further away from the entrance, but it was still there, and it was still darkness in the true sense of the word: aphotic, atramentous, sable, or just a plain, foreboding, inky blackness, near impossible to penetrate. It did not even bow to the likes of fire, light, what should be darkness' worst enemy, and that triggered a feeling of annoyance deep within Hao. Something that did not surrender to fire, his element. And it furthermore aggravated him that he could not exterminate this thing that was in front of him. It was not even matter. If it was, he could just treat it to an incineration process and it would be burnt into ash. Finer than ash, if he liked it to be.

Rather put off, Hao was clearly not in the mood for star-gazing. For a few seconds he just lay there, staring at the rocky ceiling (if you could call it a ceiling) and trying to ignore that fact that his brown locks of hair were soaking up water of an unknown origin from a nearby puddle. He tried to calm himself down. _Look here, you almost became the shaman king, and someone in this position does not lower himself to the level of darkness, which is an inanimate thing. You can't even make it pay for the anguish it has caused you-it doesn't even know it has triggered feelings. That's nothing to be angry about. It's silly cooking up schemes to deal with a non-living thing. You've known more pleasure torturing living, unfortunate victims who, unfortunately, joined the non-living thanks to you_. Inhale. Exhale. He'd learned something like that somewhere (was it called 'stress-reduction routine'?). _Think of nothing. Relax. Good. _He was feeling better already. His inner fire was extinguished, but he was still in no mood to do anything else. He decided it was bedtime.

The definition of 'bed' means 'a piece of furniture upon which or within a person sleeps or rests'. However, he found his current bed nothing like the context. It was crude, manufactured from dry leaves and dried moss, and the leaves were not even very dry; they were wet from dampness and had a sour smell about them, which reminded him strongly of the pungent odor of rotting plant matter. In an attempt to make his bed more comfortable, he had taken off his poncho and used it as a blanket, pulling it up to his chin to conserve maximum heat. He was neutral to this decision; the good side was that he felt considerably warmer than just before, when he was near the entrance of the cave and buffeted by the wind and rain; the bad side being that his body was forced to become intimately familiar with the rough surface of the makeshift bed.

'Curses,' he muttered. Surely the great Hao should not be sleeping in a place such as this. He was more than willing to sleep in a tree, but it was raining.

"Curses,' the cave responded, nonchalant.

_Damn._ Apparently, he had forgotten that this cave echoed. Maybe the cave was, indeed, teasing him, mocking him in his time of weakness for its own delectation, but he had no interest in arguing, though that particular thought had ignited the smoldering remains of his anger. His burned cold fire inwardly, but was determined not to let it show. Self-control was one of the superior qualities that he possessed, and he was not going to evince his annoyance by setting the cave aflame and thus also lose this temporary shelter as a consequence.

Hao lay back, shifting his weight about till he found an ideal position which was comfortable and closed his eyes. Blackness greeted him. He tried not to compare it to the blackness of the cave. Rain still came steadily, with no sign of stopping and the sun was completely obscured by the grayish dark clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Trees were wildly waving their branches in the wind, leaves making a soft swishing noise which, miraculously, was audible above all the noise. It was like listening to a capella singing, the choir comprising of wind, rain, thunder and trees, all making their own noises and blending together to form the sounds of a typical tempest. An individual would think that a storm was wild and noisy, and it still is, but Hao liked to think differently. A storm was a force of nature, sort of like a form of harsh, cruel beauty. A photograph of a storm could be a masterpiece for a photographer, but a storm in itself could capsize ships, create flooding and widespread damage, and its power, if harnessed by a shaman's guardian spirit, would be a formidable opponent for any shaman, but he doubted if he would fail to rid the world of one storm-summoning shaman.

Speculating on things made him more aware of his actions, but it also sapped his energy and in this situation, it made him rather drowsy. By now, Hao's eyelids were as heavy as lead and keeping himself awake was a task tedious to the extreme. Listening as the rain sang him a soothing lullaby, he slumped back into bed and allowed the sleep demon to claim his mind at last.

Author's Note: So, it isn't very good, is it? I'll try to improve on the different aspects of the story. Review to keep me writing. Honestly, I'm not good when it comes to stories like this, but I'm willing to try my luck with this one. Look out for the next chapter!


	2. Explore and Find

Author's Note: The plot is finally unfolding in this chapter, at least, ring of birds and a soft breeze blowing on his face. Morning hinted of a promising day ahead. The rain had ceased eventually, the clouds emptying their store of rainwater onto the earth, giving water and life to all living things. The grass looked like it had been sprinkled with diamonds by a celestial being that had paid the area a short visit during the night; the fresh green blades glittered with dew in the light of the morning sun.

Hao took a casual glance around; the cave seemed considerably lessouds emptying their store of rainwater onto the earth, giving water and life to all living things. The grass looked like it had been sprinkled with diamonds by a celestial being that had paid the area a short visit during the night; the fresh green blades glittered with dew in the light of the morning sun.

Hao took a casual glance around; the cave seemed considerably less dark and gloomy than the night before, with the sun shining into its interior. The darkness at the back still refused to budge, he noted, retreating all the way to the back, still withholding the knowledge of what lay in store for the curious explorer who dares to venture inside. The unknown still sent a shiver down his spine, but today, he was intent on finding out what lay inside the cave. The sun was already on his side, shining light into the cave and removing part of the darkness. All that's left for him was to add some flames as torches to guide him throughout his possibly perilous journey, and he was ready to face the odds. _Who's frightened of some cave anyway? I've seen worse._

After a brief search of the surrounding land for suitable food that could count for breakfast, he found fruit and caught fish from the stream, situated conveniently a few meters from his temporary shelter. Fruit were eaten briskly and fish slightly cooked on a spit, before all traces of food were eliminated: he did not want to be forced to entertain an unwelcome guest. Bears were frequently sighted around these parts.

Stomach filled, he found two branches with dried leaves clinging to them, tied them together and set them afire, again with the help of his Spirit. The heat was so intense that a normal person, albeit someone who practices shamanism, would back away from it. Hao did not even flinch, even if it being less than an inch away from his face. He tried to keep it as far away from his long hair as possible. Having his crowning glory singed was not part of the plan he had formed in his mind. With torch in one hand and nothing in the other, he set off, towards the centre of the cave.

-------------------------------------------------Shaman King--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The silence was shattered only by the steady 'drip-drip' of water droplets from the cave's ceiling. Even with his fire, Hao had to admit that it was dark in here. Too dark for comfort. With his torch, he could see less than a meter in front of him. Imagine what a normal explorer could see. Less than a centimeter, probably. He was beginning to feel thankful that he could see his hands in front of him. This cave felt strange. Sure, throughout his life he had slept in more than one cave, but this cave was a wee bit different than the ones he'd visited. This one was too dark, too silent. The norm was that deep caves like this one were usually inhabited by cave-dwelling bats that came out to feed at night. Yet there were no signs of life in this one. "It was almost as if all life were repelled from this cave…" He trailed off. It was better not to invite trouble by having negative thoughts invade his mind. Admittedly, he was frightened by the very atmosphere of this place, although he was already feeling disgusted about what he felt. Nothing had ever spooked him in this way. Nothing. So why was he scared? He realized he did not know the answer to this one.

He felt a prickling sensation coming on, and a soft gush of wind was blowing towards him. _Wind?_ Was it even possible to have moving air, even if he was this deep inside? He had been walking aimlessly for what seemed to him like a very long time. The passageway was endless, or maybe it was his imagination playing tricks on him. Whatever it was, he clearly felt wind. There was no mistake.

He was filled with trepidation. The thought of turning back had never occurred to him from the start, but somewhere in his mind now, an alarm signal was sounding deep within, that he should just go back, if he knew what's good for him. From his past experiences, that alarm signal had never been wrong. It had saved him from a blizzard and stormy winds before, but these natural occurrences were a far cry from the current situation he faced. He knew he had a choice: trust his instinct, or follow his will. After a mental battle between trust and will, will won after all. He decisively took a step forward. The wind had become stronger, and it was blowing in his direction, straight at him. Straight at him? Hey, this was beyond logic. Wind blowing from the inside of a cave? It was unimaginable how that could happen. If it was during the olden days, that could be witchcraft or something like that, but now, in this era? Heck, no. Curiosity aroused, Hao walked toward the wind, intent of unrevealing the answer for himself.

The wind started out as a harmless gust, but the nearer he approached it, it increased considerably in velocity, and soon it was literally throwing itself in his face. The force was so powerful he could hardly open his eyes to see where he was heading to. It blew his hair away, making them have a wild and unkempt appearance. He bowed his head and looked down to the ground, to make sure every step he took landed him on solid ground. All he could do for now is to hold the torch in a corner where the wind would not extinguish it in a matter of seconds, and walk.

He walked and walked, till the time came where, tired as he could, he could not even move an inch. The wind was lashing at him full force, forcing him back; he could feel it shrieking in his ears; he stood his ground and began a short battle of strength. The wind was acting like a shield used in the offensive, pushing him back, inch by inch. He wanted to dig his shoes into the ground to get an anchor, but besides solid rock, there was nothing on the cave floor, not even the tiniest trace of sand or mud.

He was rapidly losing strength; his whole body ached from top to toe from holding out against the wind. Was he going to just give up? He had worked so hard to get all the way here. He fought against the strong temptation of just relaxing, and letting the wind blow him all the way out. Besides, if the wind was preventing to get close to what it was hiding, surely that meant that what was behind it was something good?

In a desperate last attempt to break free of the barrier, he stuck his foot out and inched a step forward. The wind was still forcing him back; the amount of pressure it put on him, surely that was enough to break his bones? His foot met not ground, but a soft substance, and then he heard a splash. _Water._ The wind pressing against him gave way immediately and it vanished completely. Stunned, Hao fell back with a thump which rang out loudly throughout the cave.

-------------------------------------------------Shaman King--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Breathing heavily, chest heaving, he lay there motionless, staring wide-eyed at the blackness above which was meant to be the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity. The contrast was tremendously great: a second ago he was pushing with all his might against a gust of wind the force of an oncoming vehicle and then, before he knew what was exactly going on, the force field had broke unexpectedly and he, thrown off guard, was thrown back onto the ground. Not that the sudden change in circumstance was not welcoming; with the continuous gust of wind gone, there was one less thing to take care of.

Hao sat up; his pants were beginning to have a sticky, unpleasant sensation which made him feel uncomfortable. Looking down, his first expression was horror and surprise, followed by disgust. _Yuck, mud._ His pants were completely stained with the stuff. Mud was in splatters and there was a generous dark brown patch of it at the back of his pants, especially in the behind where he had landed forcefully.

He wiped it off with his hands, and wiped his muddy hands on the cave walls. It did not look so bad after the mild cleanup, but still, it was sticky and revolting. Hao made a face and turned to view his new surroundings.

There was not only rock now; water covered part of the area. The underground pool was lined with mud and it was at this thin border separating water and rock that Hao stood, looking over the edge. The pool seemed bottomless; he could hardly see what lay beneath. He strained his eyes in the darkness, even with the aid of his trusty torch, which had not gone out, and still could not catch a glimpse of the other side of the pool. The pool snaked deep inside the cave and if he wanted to finish his journey, he had two options: swim or fly. No land lay beyond as far out as he could see. He could swim, but after dipping a finger into the water, he decided not to. The water was icy-cold, and it stank too, with the pungent odor of things left to die and decay on their own. Flying was out too: the cave was huge now, but the tunnel leading to its interior looked like it was decreasing in size each move you make. It probably could not fit an oversoul, and he did not want to reduce the cave to a pile of rubble simply by trying to fit his oversoul in that small, restricted space. If what lay ahead was destroyed in the process, it would not be worth it. He had come so far.

Almost as if everything had been planned, as if somebody-or something-knew and expected his arrival, he turned to his left and-wonder of wonders-near to the edge of the water, only a few meters away from where he stood, lay a boat, tied by a piece of rope to a short pole sticking out of the muddy ground. Perfect. It was exactly what he needed.

The boat was a small one, made out of wood and capable of holding a maximum of about 2 people. Coming closer he saw that the boat had been here for a very long time: the surface where the boat had touched water slowly disintegrating, helped on by the dark green moss growing on it. The wood seemed ancient, but all in all, the boat still looked like it would make it on a trip inside, or so Hao hoped. Two oars lay to one side propped up by the side of the boat.

He climbed in gingerly; harboring the disturbing feeling that the boat would just simply crumble to no more than pieces of wood if he was not careful enough. Hao hated caring for ancient objects, because they needed more care and you would destroy them with your bare hands if you did not give them the care they need. In his eyes, they were weak objects, relying on others to exist; that includes living things, too. His contempt for the weak was one of the things that continually fuelled him in his quest for greater power. _"But still, Opacho was weak, wasn't she?" _A voice nagged at him from deep within his mind. He hissed angrily, recalling the memory when she had fled from him, right at the end of the Shaman Fight. _No, she was not! She was just…just…_He could not go on. He was still grieving for the loss of his most loyal follower, but it was useless to grieve. He had a more important task at hand.

The boat glided noiselessly across the surface of the water, creating soft ripples that made the boat bob up and down rhythmically. Hao held the oars, one on each hand, rowing the boat along. He had no need to row hard, however; the boat seemed to know where to go, moving along, keeping close to the cave walls and turning in unexpected directions. There was no dripping to shatter the peaceful silence of the atmosphere. It was so dark now that Hao could not even see a meter in front of him (he had put out the torch, having needing both hands to grasp the oars). Everything was as irrational and surreal as a dream. He found himself thinking that he would not be surprised if he saw a bright light leading to the pearly gates to heaven at the end of the journey.

The way was narrow and seemingly endless; it felt like being in a snakes' inside. The one long tunnel brightened a little and soon split into three, each not betraying their contents. Hao's arms relaxed; he could not keep going now, he must pick one of the three to continue. Now he must decide.

Trying to move a little closer to each of them proved a worthless effort: what lay within was still hidden. The mouth was like a plain black disc, though open and large as life. _The entrances are all so stubborn._ He sighed, desperately racking his brains for a solution for a way of escape from his current predicament.

Perhaps it was at that time that his grip on the oars was slack, or what had happened was entirely planned, for when the boat gave a sudden lurch, it startled him into dropping the oar on his right hand into the water. A splash sounded throughout the cave, forming waves of water which slammed on the sides of the boat. Hao swiftly lighted a ball of fire on his hand, but it was too late. The missing oar had already drifted beyond reach, and Hao would not descend into the pool and take his chances with the ice-cold water. He cursed under his breath, the fire inside him threatening to roar to life. But still, the boat was completely independent of its passenger, pivoting around steadily until it faced the middle tunnel, then with another jerk that nearly threw Hao off balance, it skimmed the water with breakneck speed, heading straight into the awaiting mouth of the tunnel.

It was almost like a ride in a theme park, the boat moving along without anyone controlling its movement. It was reminiscent of an excited puppy dashing to its owners when they finally came home after a long day. The critter would run fast, not stopping till it reached the door, and then it would sit there, tail wagging in anticipation. In fact, that was the exact thing that the boat did, its speed accelerating with distance covered. Hao closed his eyes; his mind was spinning and the only thing he could do was to cling tightly onto the sides of the boat to avoid being thrown overboard. He could hear the rushing wind as it whistled in his ears. One ominous thought still lingered, in spite of all this: _with such speed, I wonder if we'll crash._

The crash, fortunately, did not happen. The boat halted as suddenly as it picked up speed, and this time, Hao was thrown off balance. Stumbling, he just managed to grab onto something to stop himself from hurtling downwards and probably earn a jawbone fracture that likely would need medical attention. Rubbing his palm, which had a red mark where he had gripped the side of the boat a bit too tightly.

The area had changed. He was in what looked like the middle of a small pond, surrounded by high walls of yellowish rock. There was a piece of dry land right smack in the middle, sort of like an island. It was bright in here, with sunlight streaming in from above. The sky was a light blue disc above, dotted with puffy white clouds likened to cotton wool. It was more vibrant, too, with plants sticking out from crevices and clumps of flowers here and there. Everything felt fresh and full of life, except for one thing.

Right in the middle of the island was a steel platform, and on it lay a metal box, about one-and-a-half meters in length. The sunlight reflected off it, creating a dazzling light that was both ethereal and unearthly. The metal surface was smooth, embroidered with strands of spider web silk and a few streaks of angry red color. Blood or paint, Hao could not tell. The whole object looked alien and out-of-sorts in such a sunny place brimming with happiness.

The air was hot and heavy, and everything around had the feeling that they were waiting for something to happen. _Waiting for what?_ There was no sound, no chirping from the birds that flew past in the air. Everything was still and silent.

There existed a hidden sense called 'instinct', buried within all creatures from the beginning of time, and perhaps it was his instinct awakening from the depths inside him. In that instant, a strange emotion washed over him, and without warning, he strode over to the metal box, his body ignoring all orders to stop whatever he was doing. Fear made his blood run cold, ironic, for one who controlled fire, and a shiver went down his spine. Was he afraid of what he was going to do next? Or just astonished that he had no control of his physical body?

His fingers held firmly onto the metal lid and tried to lift it. He knew he could not; the lid was too heavy and it was shut tight. _Stop! You know your own ability._ His attempt to persuade his body, and whoever was controlling it, fell on deaf ears. His fingers gripped it even harder, pulling and tugging it with every ounce of energy he could muster. Muscles screaming with protest were ignored ad the whole body worked to complete the task bestowed to them. Kneeling down, hands pushed from below; still, the lid refused to budge. He was gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white; still he tugged, strained and shoved. The lid was rusty underneath; the force of it all, and the rough way he tried to free the lid made blood ooze out through shallow cuts on his fingers, trickling down, dripping onto the sandy ground, staining it a dark brown. Still, he felt no pain, as he continually worked to get the lid off.

Finally, with a groan, the lid grated against the box and came off, clanging noisily against the ground where it was thrown. Hao leaned against the box, panting. Arms wet with sweat, and fingers with blood. Blood was pounding in his ears; he blinked and shook himself to clear away the dizziness. He wiped his hands on his poncho, momentarily forgetting the harm done to them, leaving bloodstains on the fabric.

The pain came almost immediately. Swept underneath in a wave of nausea, his fingers were burning hot; every attempt to numb the pain made it even worse. Stifling a cry, he sat down on the spot dyed a hideous reddish-brown and waited until he got used to it. It did not take very long. Summoning the strength to stand, he could not help but to peek over the lip of the metal box, to satisfy his growing curiosity. What he saw made him stare in wonder. Clearly, the box contained what he could never imagine.

Lying in the rectangular box was a girl. She was fast asleep, red lips slightly parted, eyelids closed. She looked angelic and innocent, dressed in a very light pink lacy dress with a ruff. Her hair was as dark as midnight, black as coal, in contrast to her skin, which gave a soft glow, smooth as porcelain. She wore no shoes, white gloves with a thin pink ribbon tied around each wrist. She was like an angel descended to earth.

_Unlike the ungodliness I represent, _Hao thought bitterly.

Author's Note: With that, chapter 2 comes to a close. My sincere apologies that the story crawls at a snail's pace every chapter. The excitement will come soon, and that's a promise.


	3. Awakening the memories

Author's Note: I think I'm stuck, or maybe it's because I'm lazy. Just a short notice: I won't be updating as often as I can now, as the holidays are coming to a close and schoolwork is piling up. I'm going for a chapter every 3 weeks. I'm aware that that's a very long time between each chapter, so please bear with me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Shaman King. If I did, I could draw better than I could write.

**Black Roses, White Lilies**

Chapter three: Awakening the memories

Waiting was boring.

Hao had been sitting right beside the sleeping girl for what seemed like hours, waiting to see what would happen. Nothing happened. He refused to believe that all his efforts had been wasted on this girl; he had found out nothing and it was a waste of his precious time. His patience wore thin. It was frustrating to have braved everything and be rewarded with a motionless form. Never mind the possibility of her being something special, or that she could be really intelligent: in this state she was useless; her lips spoke of nothing.

Now that it had crossed his mind, maybe she was something special. Why had she gone to sleep? She struck him as someone having witnessed something, someone having a hidden past so secret that she had condemned herself to eternal slumber so as to keep her secret forever. Now where did he get that idea?

Under scrutiny, she reminded him of many things. He wouldn't be surprised if she was someone like Iron Maiden Jeanne, some holy girl with a mission to save the world, for she looked exactly the type. He returned to the time when the Iron Maiden and her X-Laws informed him that they will destroy him and in turn, destroy all traces of evil on this earth, and build a peaceful paradise here on earth. Even now the claim seemed absurd and he laughed quietly to himself now as he did then. She was, in a way, very much like him, killing whoever who stands in her way indiscriminately, yet she claims to be on the side of peace. It was so ridiculous; a young girl like her was only an obstacle in his eyes.

Yet, in a way, this girl that lay before him was like a shadow to his past. She reminded him strongly of his dear mother; but strangely, she did not resemble her at all. Maybe that aura of kindness and serenity that surrounded her opened the lid which kept the memories of his past life. Oh, he could still remember her as clear as day. She was a strong woman, one that did not easily back down in the face of challenges, his source of comfort as a young boy. Despite others accusing her to be a Youkai, she pressed on in her effort to raise him under the burden of persecution. Maybe things would have taken a turn for the better if she had not been murdered. He was left to wander aimlessly, leading a life which seemed pointless, like a boat drifting in the wide ocean. He still remembered the loneliness which hurt him through and through, needles piercing into his tender heart. Being bullied by the village boys for something he did not wish for. Did he really have demonic powers? Given a choice, he would rather lead a normal life, sharing the joys of childhood with the other village children, playing 'catch' in the fields that lay in the outskirts of the small village. It was sad, having to watch from a distance. One step closer, even if it was only to get a closer look, and he would be driven away. "Demon boy", they taunted, "Why don't you go home to your mother? Isn't she of the same kind as you?" What would he give to be able to bask in the warmth of the morning sun, lying on his back with the others while the lush green grass grew around them, for a time which he would not be rejected, even if it was for a while?

Even thinking about it now brought tears to his eyes. He shook his head, willing the tears to disappear. All these years, he had used hatred to build a castle around him, shutting him in, making him oblivious to all the insults, dreaming about a world where humanity would not exist. He still sought out his personal paradise, reincarnating a couple of times in the hope that in this lifetime, he would establish his dream kingdom. But still, he had failed to do so. Now, with a lid over his past removed, he felt even weaker than usual, like a little boy lost amid the crowd, searching for a familiar face in which to place his hopes on.

The girl was still asleep, and it suddenly dawned on him why she had reminded him of his mother. Wasn't it like the nights when she could get restful sleep, putting away the pressures that burdened her in the day, and waking up the next day, optimistic of a better day ahead? Always hoping that things would be different for her and her family. She was just like her, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. Was she expecting something?

"_Mama, why do they hate us? Did we do something wrong?"_

"_No, Hao. It's just that…they don't like us, because we're different."_

"_I don't want to be different, Mama. I want to be the same as the other children. They don't play with me anymore."_

"_Some things cannot be changed. They are just the way they are. As humans, we must learn to accept who we are, not to resent ourselves. Sigh…sometimes I feel as if what had previously protected us is now long gone, and then I look around and see the beauty of nature, and deep inside, I know that the Great Spirit is still somewhere out there, watching over us."_

'_Why don't we move away, and go somewhere where others don't know that we're different? Then we can lead a happy life there, for ever and ever."_

"_I'm afraid that is not an option available to us, Hao. For now, all we can do is endure, and hope for a more promising day ahead. Sleep now; say a silent prayer to the Great Spirits, that they may keep us while we go through the night."_

That fateful night, his mother was murdered.

-------------------------------------------Shaman King------------------------------------------------

Reliving the memories had put him on the verge of breaking down. Usually his self-control prevented that, but now even it seemed to fail him. He found himself looking back at the night when the events had come to pass. He had heard the groaning of metal on metal while he watched the leaves shivering in the trees. That night he did not sleep, dwelling on his mother's words. It had been a full moon night, the moon casting down her rays through the empty space where a window should have been and right on his bed. His ears had also caught a slight rustle; he was certain that had not come from the leaves. His mother lay beside him, asleep and completely oblivious to her surroundings. It was a typical quiet and peaceful night, but his heart had started pounding. Warning lights had began to flash, but he gave them not a second thought. If only he had trusted himself, what his subconscious was trying to tell him. There he was, sensing danger all around, yet he totally ignored it. If only he had woken his mother up, and told her all about it. Then they would be gone before they came. If only he had not behaved like a blithering idiot. Ah, if only!

The rest of the events rushed by like a blur. The whole place was a perfect pandemonium. Within a short time the house was in flames. People outside were shouting, but the words seemed like a foreign language. His mother was screaming something; the piercing wail hurt his ears. As the sound of feet pounding on wood got closer, the last thing he saw was his dear mother, the fire outside reflected in her brown orbs. She managed one word: "Run".

He dashed out of the fiery furnace, down the dusty path; on and on, until he reached the safe embrace of the dark wood, where he sat in the middle of the trees, eyes wide, not knowing what to do. He could have cried, but his eyes were dry.

He was, now. Eyes blurry with tears; the world now looked as if everything was blanketed with haze. He blinked them away and returned his gaze to the only person that was beside him. She lay with her arms one on each side, the way his mother had slept that fateful night. How was she like? Was she as bright as his mother? Her skin glowed in the pale sunlight. He felt compelled to touch her; never mind that she looked like she was made of glass. A painted glass sculpture. The thought rings like a new-found melody. He felt as if he was drawn into something else, something he could never understand. All this was beyond reason, and he did not seem to have a care why. Urgency enveloped him; eradicated any doubts he had, consumed all his feelings. He slowly extended a hand toward her, as if his life depended on it. Something told him not to rush.

As skin met skin, need met fulfillment. She was exactly as he had imagined: her porcelain skin proved soft as silk and gentle to the touch; his fingers, stained with his dried blood, cast a dark shadow, as opposed to her white skin.

He withdrew his hand within a split-second of contact; he had a feeling lingering too long would harm her somehow. His fingers felt slightly warm, warm in a comforting way, from the contact. His head had cleared; and he stood staring at her, partly in bewilderment, partly in the strangeness of the whole issue. The sensation had returned: it was as if everything around was waiting for something to happen.

Nothing happened. His heart sank like a stone dropped into a bottomless well.

Then, as if providing an answer to his plea, a ray of white light shone from the blue disk overhead which was the sky, and it came to rest right on her. Tendrils of light, like slender vines, curled around her sleeping form, twisting and wrapping until they formed a cocoon of blazing light, so blindingly white that he was forced to shut his eyes tight and cover them with his hands. Finally, the light faded.

He opened his eyes again. The girl's eyelids flew open. She stared straight at him with a pair of huge grey eyes, wide with surprise and confusion. Dark grey, like deep pools. Ruby lips parted as she opened her mouth to speak, for the first time.

"Where am I, and who might you be?"

-------------------------------------------Shaman King------------------------------------------------

Night has fallen. The moon is full and luminous. Round and glowing as teary eyes. The stars sparkle like teardrops. It is quiet, like the night before. A zephyr weaves through her hair playfully. An owl hoots. The breezes whistle and tickle the knee-length, paper thin grasses: they wave left and right in synchrony to the windsong. A nightingale coats the air with its melodious voice. It was Nature's orchestra: the magic of the night.

A young girl capered around the field, hands flailing in the air. Her laughter rings like a tinkling glass bell, resonant. Her dress trails along behind her, floating in the wind, pink clouds of fabric.

"Wait, Maria!" Another voice calls out, and the image of a young boy ambles toward her, arms outstretched. She giggles and takes off. "Catch me if you can!" She teases him.

A frown crosses his face, quickly replaced by a look of sheer delight. He chases after her. She squeals with excitement and picks up speed, but is quickly overtaken by the other. She tries to twist away, but she trips and stumbles, rolling on the soft grass. The sides of her mouth crease with laughter. She spreads her fingers, feeling grass blades between each finger. Meanwhile, the boy stops his relentless pursuit and sits down, cross-legged, watching her with a grin. "What's all the excitement about?"

The girl picks up a flower from the fresh grass. White petals, orange centre. It is easily seen among all the green, the only flower in the field. She takes it carefully, gently, by her index finger and thumb. Her brow furrows, as if she is mulling over something in her head. "A daisy," she murmurs.

Without warning, she drops the daisy; it falls unnoticed to the ground. She lies down and kicks her legs into the air, savoring freedom. How long has she not smelt the sweet scent of fresh air, breathed in the fragrance of fresh plants? She closes her eyes in bliss. "Oh Hao, it's just because I haven't been out for such a long time. It feels suffocating to be sealed in that metal box for a long, long time."

The boy sighs. He gets up from where he was and settles next to her. Together, they wait for dawn.

A/N: Yes, I am fully aware that the last part of the story was a tad strange. I resorted to this to make it a little different from the rest of the parts. Well, look out for the next chapter, and I will be grateful if you review.


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